Guardians of the Galaxy: Weak
by Michelle-And-The-Beatle
Summary: After being captured, Peter has nightmares and always regards himself as being weak. A pair of his friends helps to teach him that he isn't at all with the help of some friendly tickles. Please Enjoy!


_A stinging on the side of his face keeps him awake for another minute. He squints his eyes through the hot red liquid that seeps from somewhere on his hairline. He pulls on his arms bound above his head with his last remaining strength, and then tugs on his legs chained to the floor. He is hanging a good foot off the ground. He tries to scream, to voice his opinion about what he thinks of the guys doing this to him, but he cannot because the gag is bound too tight around himself. All he can do is glare._

"Think you're such a big shot, Quill?" a menacing voice speaks, "Well, down here, you're not a big shot. Guardian of the Galaxy? Star-Lord? Not down here," another punch to his jaw and Peter swears he can feel a tooth dislodge itself from his gums. He finally lets out a pained whimper after all the torture he endured. And he swore to himself he wouldn't breathe a word around them. But right now, that one whine and that smirk that appeared on the attacker's face... it made him feel **weak**. And he knew that's what he was. He was about to start begging and pleading through his gag. A punch to his stomach was delivered and his breath left him for a moment. 'No more,' he wanted to say. But he knew they weren't going to stop any time soon. Even if he passed out from the agony and exhaustion, they'd just wake him up and start over.

"Ready for round... what are we on now? Nine?" the voice chuckled. Peter shook his head, even that motion causing him pain as he hung there, bound and gagged.

"No? Well, I guess we haven't hit hard enough yet. Isn't that right, Peter?" the words were spat in his face and he was punched again. His name echoed in his head, since that was the last thing he heard. He wanted to scream again. Not even in anger. Just from the sheer pain of it all, he wanted to howl. He wanted it to end. He knew his friends wouldn't come and save him. It was just him. Peter Quill and the dumbass goon who killed him. That's what it was going to be, he was sure of it. And the weakness nestled itself into his core again. He felt it, sitting there. With each new blow dealt to him, that one word reverberated inside his skull. Wherever the punch landed, the word was branded there. On his side, his stomach, his cheek... Weak was spelled out and would forever remain there. Weak weak weak...

He took a shuddering breath of air as he sprung up in his bed. He was drenched in sweat and his chest heaved. Peter's eyes were wide open and they darted around the dark confines of his cot on his ship. He then covered his eyes and rocked in his bed, hearing the creaking noise the action made. God, how he hated nightmares. And especially ones that happened in real life. All of those bad memories came flooding back to him, and all of the negative feelings that he thought he overcame and forgot about resurfaced. It was hell. It felt vivid and real. Then Peter felt the burning in his eyes that he so desperately wanted to hold back. He brought his knees up to his chest and planted his face in them, crying quietly. He felt alone and powerless in his current state, but most of all weak. Why couldn't he handle it? Why did he long for release to easily while he was bound? He had been ready to give in at any moment.

"Peter?" a soft voice spoke. He shot his head up and cleared his throat, "H-Hey, Gamora..." The green-skinned woman ducked her head to get a look at him in his bunk. She could see the tears, "Is everything okay?" Peter looked away from her and chewed on his lower lip, wondering how to answer. After a few seconds of that, he shook his head, hugging his knees closer to his chest. Gamora sighed and sat next to him on the bed, "Then tell me what is the matter."

Peter shook his head, "I-I can't..." Gamora frowned, "Why not?" Peter answered, "Y-You'll think I-I'm a baby." Gamora smiled a little, "I already think that, so there is no harm in what you can tell me." She touched his forehead and frowned again, "You're sweating. And you're crying, Peter. What happened?"

Peter whimpered and ducked his head again, "I'm weak." The words struck something in Gamora. She remembered this man saying it over and over again after they rescued him. He was in a pain-induced haze at the time, she was sure. But all he said was that he was weak and no one would ever respect or care for him. Peter looked so broken, so beaten, so contradictory of his normal arrogant and playful attitude. Gamora and the rest of them didn't think much of it and just tried to get him patched up. They all knew Peter had a scar across the inside of his bicep because of the beating he was dealt. Even now, she didn't know what to say about it.

The human felt a gentle hand card fingers through his hair comfortingly and he relaxed a bit. He sniffed and still didn't look up. Gamora said, "You are not weak." It sounded so demanding that it barely could be comforting to anyone, but Peter looked up wide-eyed at her. She looked at him in the eyes, basically saying she would kill him if he didn't agree. "T-Thank you?" Peter stuttered. Gamora smiled very slightly and she bowed her head, "You have never been weak. You have proven yourself as leader of all of us on this ship. You are a Guardian of the Galaxy, Peter Quill. And you deserve the title of Star-Lord."

Peter sighed, "I gave it to myself. And I nearly got all of us killed. I would have given in to those- those A-holes who captured me if it weren't for all of you. I hide it behind all the stuff I do, my personality. B-But I feel so powerless and incapacitated all the time. None of you understand. I mean, maybe you do, but you guys hide it so damn well so I would never know," he wiped his eyes devoid of tears for the time being. Gamora watched Peter in silence and didn't judge him for crying more. A loud snore rattled the bedposts from across them. That would be Drax.

Then there was a grunt from somewhere out of sight to the right of the bunks. Small fury ears peeked over the edge of Peter's cot and the groggy voice of Rocket spoke, "I hear you idiots, you know. A guy can't sleep around here without you two whispering like girls at a slumber party..." Gamora tugged on the raccoon's ear to silence him. "Ow!" he climbed onto the bed, "I didn't deserve that! You're the ones who-" he cut himself short when he saw Peter huddled in a ball, tears running down his cheeks. Gamora looked at Rocket accusingly. Rocket's ears drooped and he stood on Peter's cot in front of the guy.

"H-Hey, uh... you okay?" he asked softly. Peter really didn't want to be tormented by Rocket for the next few days for seeing him cry and he hugged his knees closer to himself. Gamora resumed stroking fingers through Peter's red hair. Rocket could hear certain words from the conversation before and he picked up on the tone of it quite well. He sat himself down by Peter's feet, looking up at the guy.

"You know, uh, Quill... you ain't weak. You're not a weak kind of guy. Y-You know who is? Groot. He's just a walking sack of sticks and leaves, heh," Rocket tried to joke around. It didn't seem to resonate with Peter as much. The human still didn't look up.

"I-I don't mean just physically," Peter spoke but his voice sounded stuffy and muffled. Rocket frowned and he said a bit louder and with more purpose, "You're not weak, okay? In any sense of the word or where it applies. Hell, you've saved all our asses." Peter peeked his eyes over his folded arms resting on his knees, "Yeah? And how many times have you all saved me?" Rocket shrugged it off, "That's not important. We ain't talkin' about that right now." Gamora added, "You're extremely vital to us, Peter. You keep up our moral, believe it or not."

Peter Quill finally lifted his head and rested his chin on his arms. He sniffed again. Rocket sighed and said, "You know what? You want me to show you how not-weak you are? I will," he crawled over to Peter and looked over his knees at him. He tapped his forehead, "You see that? No echo. You got a thick-ass skull." Gamora smirked at that. Peter's eyes flickered something of happiness when he heard that. Rocket moved onto Peter's arms, "And look at these," he lifted one arm up, "These are some huge guns that can give an enemy hell," his tail flicked his scar and Quill bit his lip so he wouldn't smile. He was now sitting up straight, knees still pulled up to his chest. "And _theeese_," Rocket strained as he pushed Peter's legs down and he rested his hands on his abdomen, "Are tough as hell abs. Seriously, you're a close second to Drax." Peter blushed a little. Rocket then said, "You have pretty sweet back muscles, too." Peter showed a half-grin, "Didn't know you noticed, Rocket." Rocket poked Quill's stomach, "Can it, Star-Bum."

Peter covered a hand over his stomach where he was poked, "Don't." Rocket grinned, "Why?" Quill glowered, "You know why." Gamora smiled a little, "We know those wounds have long ago healed, Quill. It isn't that," she poked his side. Rocket chuckled, "Whatsa matter, Pete? You ticklish or somethin'?" Peter shook his head and scooted himself to a corner of his cot. Gamora smiled and said teasingly, "Oh, I think he is," and she skittered a few fingers across his bare foot. The human yelped and retracted his foot immediately, smile breaking through at last.

"I know he is!" Rocket grinned and ran at Peter, attaching himself to his chest and wiggling his little claws on his belly. Peter burst out laughing. Rocket smiled, "Wow, look at that! We got Mr. Sour Puss to smile!" Gamora chortled and took back one of Peter's legs, running fingers up and down his foot. Peter squeaked and kept laughing, throwing his head back as he was pressed against a wall and a pillow on his bed.

"Admit you're not weak," Rocket said, kneading his small fingers on his ribs. Peter laughed deeper, but he shook his head. Gamora dragged her fingernails up and down his arch, "It will only help you, Quill." Peter yelped and tugged at his foot more, "I cahahahan't!"

"You can't? Why? Your lungs seem to be pumping air fine. Maybe you need a bit more persuasion," Rocket smirked and wiggled fingers beneath Peter's arms. That's when the human was lost in helpless laughter. It was helpless, yes, but it felt so much better than the powerless feeling from previously. This time, he was glad he was incapable of fighting back or holding out. It was his chance to give in and laugh without being looked upon as weak. These were his friends. They would love him and respect him no matter what.

"I ahaham not weheak!" Peter squealed out through laughter. Rocket smiled wide and he and Gamora ceased their attack. "Now, you're certain? Positive?" Rocket asked. Peter panted, that smile still on his face, and he nodded, "Yehes. I'm one strong sonofabitch. And no one can mess with me." The raccoon slapped his shoulder, "Damn straight. And if anyone does, they mess with us, too."

Peter ran a hand through his hair, "I love you guys, you know that?" Gamora smiled, "Yes, we're aware." Peter chuckled, "You can tell Groot I said that, just don't say anything to Drax. You know how literal he takes everything." Rocket grinned, "Got it. Welp, gonna head back to bed. Sleep tight, Star-Lord." He hopped off the bed and went to his own cot. Rocket curled up next to the potted plant of Groot he had, the tiny twig man already sleeping. Gamora stood off Peter's bed and waited for him to get under the covers again before she would go back to her own cot. Peter did so and Gamora leaned down, smoothing a hand over his hair as she kissed his forehead, "Good night, Star-Lord."

Peter smiled at her and it grew when she pulled the blankets up higher on him. He shut his eyes knowing he would never be thought of as weak by anyone ever again, whether it was an enemy or himself. He was not only Peter Quill, Guardian of the Galaxy, and outlaw. He was friggin' Star-Lord.

_~The End~_


End file.
